


"And I thanked him for the song"

by filenotch



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Character Study, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 14:21:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14696001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filenotch/pseuds/filenotch
Summary: Ronon had expected to be the strong one, the one who let Sheppard let go.





	"And I thanked him for the song"

It was one of those nights. They'd been sparring, and Sheppard was off. He stuck with it, but at the end he picked up his towel and held it in his hands a long while before wiping his face and neck, jaw tense. They walked out together, Ronon following Sheppard's left turn instead of peeling off to his own quarters. Sheppard had said nothing, just let him follow. And when at last he stopped and stood at the end of the pier, looking out over the water, he'd looked at Ronon and said, "It's hard sometimes."

The words hadn't come easily from Sheppard's mouth. Words that meant anything always had to fight their way out, carving a path between Sheppard's diflecting banter and his stoic silences. Ronon considered the words, let the noise of wavelets against the city's sides fill the air for a moment, and then said, "Hard to be?"

Sheppard nodded, cupped his hand loosely over his mouth, rubbing his own thumb hard down his cheek bone--self hushing, self soothing. Ronon took a gamble, ran his fingers across Sheppard's scalp, nails first, and after a momentary freeze, Sheppard leaned his head into the touch. That was message enough. "C'mon," Ronan said, using his hand to turn Sheppard away from the water. He dropped his arm and stepped toward the closest transporter, not looking to see if Sheppard followed, okay if he didn't, but happy to hear the footfalls behind him a half a moment later.

Sheppard didn't look at him in the transporter, just leaned over before Ronon could and set the coordinates for the transporter closest to Ronon's quarters, letting the reach of his arm touch Ronon's belly in a way he would have normally been careful to avoid. They did not touch or speak when the doors opened, Sheppard leading the way to Ronon's room. He could have opened it with a thought if he'd wanted to, Ronon knew, but Sheppard stood aside, a tension in his practiced slouch, and let Ronon open the biometric lock. Ronon wasn't sure how this was going to go. He stood aside and let Sheppard enter first, and that casual brush as he entered the doorway could only have been on purpose. There was plenty of space.

When the door closed behind them, Ronon paused. What did Sheppard want from this? Up against the wall, hot and fast? Ronon dismissed the thought, looking at the near-invisible twitches in Sheppard's hand, the look of vague surprise on Sheppard's profile, as if wasn't quite sure how he'd got here. Ronon took a breath. "We good?"

Sheppard's head turned rapidly to face him, the rest of his body still but for the subtle movements of muscles dealing with tension. His eyes widened a fraction and he swallowed and turned away. "Yeah?" he answered, the question hanging in the air for a moment.

"We're good," Ronon said, deciding to force the issue by peeling off his shirt. Sheppard had turned back, a tongue unconsciously moving across his lips as he took in Ronon's bare chest. Ronon stepped in. "We're good," he said again, reaching for the hem of Sheppard's T-shirt and pulling it over his head, tossing it aside. He ran his nails down Sheppard's back, parallel to his spine, and then splayed out his hands, covering as much skin as possible when he moved them back up, settling them on Sheppard's shoulder blades, fingers touching right over the backbone, forcing Sheppard's arms a bit away from his sides. Ronon put his head on Sheppard's, Athosian style, and took a breath. Sheppard smelled of clean sweat, some perfume-like scent that came faintly from his hair, all familiar.

Sheppard stood for a few seconds, arms in that awkward lift forced by Ronon's, and slowly moved his hands to the round cap of Ronon's shoulders, resting lightly for a moment before pressing more firmly and sliding up toward his neck. Ronon heard a noise escape his lips, unbidden, unlooked-for. Sheppard moved his hands into Ronon's hair, fingers digging in below the locks and Ronon bent his head further, face beside Sheppard's, pressed along their cheeks, and he could feel Sheppard's mouth moving as he said, "Yeah," this time a certainty and not a question.

They stood a long while, hands moving slowly over every inch of each other's skin, fingertips, sweeping palms, gentle squeezes, just touching and avoiding anything overtly erotic until Sheppard tentatively brushed his fingers over Ronon's nipple. Ronon reached for Sheppard's chest, ruffling his fingers to feel the thick hair, mirroring the movement and Sheppard breathed in sharply, not quite a gasp. Ronon took the risk and put his fingers under Sheppard's chin, tilting his head up to look him in the eye. "Yeah?"

Sheppard glanced down, eyes closing for a moment, then opening to look directly at Ronon. "Yeah."

"Okay then." Ronon reached for Sheppard's belt, Sheppard for his, then pausing to separate, remove their shoes, undress. Ronon glanced at Sheppard, expecting to see the twitches again, but there was no sign of the tension from before. Instead, Ronon felt his own hands shaking slightly, palms feeling cold for the lack of contact with Sheppard's skin. The slight pause meant that Sheppard was naked before Ronon was, smiling at him slightly with that crook to his mouth that looked like he copied it from McKay.

Ronon looked away, finished undressing. He'd once thought Sheppard and McKay had a thing, for all that they bickered like lovers, but he knew better now. He'd wondered if Sheppard had anyone to bleed off the tension with, but there had been no women and no rumours. Sheppard probably needed this badly, and Ronon understood isolation, the need for touch. He could give this to Sheppard.

He put his hand out to Sheppard's chest, running his fingers through the hair, and Sheppard reached to palm Ronon's hip, sliding down his outer thigh and then back up. Sheppard stepped backward toward Ronon's bed, not looking, stopping unerringly at the edge, and gestured with his head before turning to crawl up onto it. The movement stole Ronon's breath, Sheppard's lean body moving on all fours like a dangerous animal, every muscle visible, his sex proud between his legs. Ronon stepped forward and put both hands on Sheppard's hips, gripped them tightly, and the swept up his flanks and back down along his spine, Sheppard arcing like a pet _kiantan_ into his touch. Then Sheppard moved, reached out, and brought Ronon down to the bed, rolled on top of him, his face a mix of determination, defiance and amusement.

They barely spoke the whole time. That Ronon fucked Sheppard didn't surprise him. That Sheppard explicitly asked for it did. But what surprised Ronon most was what happened after.

He had offered because Sheppard needed it, was touch starved and tense, and before Melina, Ronon had shared moments like this with other soldiers with no strings and no shame. He'd expected to curl around Sheppard after, if Sheppard would permit, and feed his skin hunger. Instead he found Sheppard curled around him, Ronon's head on his shoulder, Sheppard running his free hand gently over every part of Ronon he could reach. He had expected to provide. He had not expected to receive. He had not expected to need it so much. Ronon relaxed into Sheppard, and just let himself be, and if his eyes grew a little moist under the closed lids, that was only for him to know.

Sheppard hummed quietly, a song Ronon recognized. It was one Sheppard played on his guitar, but never sang. But Ronon had heard the words, a few times when Sheppard played Johnny Cash as they sat in his room, cleaning guns or reading together. Ronon could only remember the chorus. _Flesh and blood needs flesh and blood..._

He breathed in, ran a hand down Sheppard's flank, and, if he would admit it, snuggled in deeper, the chest-deep rumble of Sheppard's humming vibrating against his face. He had expected to be the strong one. He still was strong, they were strong, and they let go together.

[Johnny Cash, Flesh and Blood](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kbDCGnjeA8o)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from a line in the song, "Flesh and Blood".


End file.
